


Get This Winter Over With

by Fatebegins



Series: Edited To Add [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Established Relationship, Fights, Jealousy, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatebegins/pseuds/Fatebegins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek learns that secrets never stay hidden and Scott finds a way to make it all about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get This Winter Over With

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally recovering from the worst flu in the history of man kind! I'm happy to continue writing again :)

***Stiles***  
  
A few weeks ago, Stiles’ life was so simple. It had been full of  awesome, bed rocking baby making sex,  flowers and cupcakes; _fancy_ cupcakes, the kind with filling and compote because Derek is going through a youtube tutorial phase.

Now it’s all getting so complicated. 

After weeks of spotty communication, Rafael has finally committed to seeing Dylan and developing a plan for their interaction. However, unlike Stiles, who is trying to keep an open mind about Rafael, Derek starts staring daggers the moment his name is brought up, not to mention the three random drug tests he insisted Rafael submit to. This is so incredibly awkward and Stiles has a sinking feeling it always will be.  
  
“That was Rafe.”  Stiles leans against the home office door watching Derek; he’d left the room the moment Rafe called.  “He wants to meet us on the 5th.”  
  
Derek doesn’t look away from the computer screen where he‘s diligently playing Solitaire. “Of February?”  
  
“No, of August,” Judging by the scowl that crosses Derek’s face, Stiles’ brilliant joke and comedic timing is not appreciated. “Yes, of February, next week.”  
  
Derek makes a noncommittal grunt.  
  
“Well?”  
  
Derek finally turns around but doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Is that a good day for you?”  
  
“It’s fine.” Derek looks like he’s chewing on nails. “Tell him Satorelli’s, eight o’clock.”  
  
And that seems to be that. Derek returns to the computer and Stiles can’t shake the feeling that this is going to end badly. He wishes doing the right thing didn’t suck.  
  
“You’re okay with this right?” Stiles ventures into the room, hands coming to rest on Derek’s broad shoulders. It feels like the hundredth time he’s asking. “You’d tell me if you weren’t? We can still meet him without Dylan first if you‘d like?”  
  
“What difference would it make?” The words are spoken matter of factly and Stiles feels kind of like a douche because he _has_ already agreed to the meeting and Derek seems to know that.  
  
“Hey,” Trying to smooth away the frown at Derek‘s brow, Stiles bends down and kisses his cheek. “You know you’re still his father.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
***Derek***  
  
Derek’s always prided himself on his ability to maintain complete control. There’s never been a time when he couldn’t push aside whatever shit he was dealing with internally, and just perform.  
  
Until now.  
  
Every time he so much as thinks of Rafael he wants to blow up the nearest building.  Rafael is up to something, Derek knows that, he just doesn’t know _what_.  
  
“Ready to go?” Stiles has Dylan with him, already bundled up in his red coat and matching hat. Stiles himself has changed from his usual jeans and tee shirt into black slacks and a collared shirt. To add insult to injury, he’s taken the time to put fucking _mousse_ in his hair and style it. Jealousy rips through Derek at the thought of Stiles primping for that bastard.  
  
Ignoring his irritation, Derek grabs his coat, gives Stiles what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Yeah.”  
  
“ _Satorelli’s_   is so nice!“ Stiles gushes as he leads the way to the car. “We haven’t been in so long, maybe we could stick Rafe with the bill?”  
  
“I can afford to take you to _Satorelli_ ’s every damn night of the week if you wanted.”  
  
“We’d be homeless in a month.”  
  
“Did you miss the part about me having a lot of money--”  
  
“That’s our nest egg.” Stiles reminds him, “There’s no way you’re blowing it all just so Peter can reel you back in to shady back door dealings when you get desperate.”  
  
The only reason Derek doesn’t snap at him is because he doesn’t want Rafael to see them as anything but a happy couple. So he bites his tongue, gets in the car and cranks up the radio.  
  
On the way to the restaurant, Dylan falls asleep. It’s his usual pattern to do that whenever the car ride lasts more than fifteen minutes. Derek decides not to wake him, choosing instead to follow Stiles into the restaurant with Dylan asleep against his shoulder, little face pressed against Derek’s neck as he quietly snores.  
  
The walk into the restaurant feels like the green mile. Derek’s eyes hone in on the other man the moment they step inside. Derek would rather be anywhere else but Stiles had made it clear that this was happening and after the clusterfuck of _technically_ kidnapping Rafael, he had no choice but to fall in line. The last thing he wants is for Stiles to find out about that.  It helps that he has about four of Peter’s associates seated in the place just in case anything goes awry.  
  
As they approach the secluded table, Rafael stands. He looks like a giant grasshopper, gangly and long limbed with an over bite. Okay, maybe Derek’s prejudiced but seriously Stiles’ taste had improved massively with him. Definite upgrade. Rafael’s dressed like he’s going to see the pope, decked out in a black suit, shoes shining to kingdom come.  
  
“Hi!“ Rafael waves, “I was starting to think I was going to be stood up.”  
  
Derek really wishes he could punch him; at _least_ once.  
  
“Sorry,” Stiles pulls out a seat across from him, tone all breathless apology. “We were stuck in traffic.”  
  
“That’s fine.” It’s clear Rafael isn’t listening to a word of what Stiles is saying, he’s focused on Derek entirely. Specifically, his eyes are glued to Dylan where he‘s sleeping against his chest.  
  
Instinctively, Derek tightens his hold on the boy.  
  
“So that’s him?” Rafael’s voice dips in wonder, his hand reaches out only to fall back against the white tablecloth. “Stiles, he’s… beautiful.”  
  
Predictably, Stiles beams, smile bright and soft.  “We like to think so.”  
  
“Are you going to wake him?”  
  
“No.” Derek answers abruptly.  
  
“He’s recovering from a cold,” Stiles explains, shooting Derek a ‘be nice‘ look. “He’ll wake up on his own in a  few minutes anyway.”  
  
“And you must be Derek.” Rafael’s acting skills are commendable. Expression betraying nothing he extends hand. “I’m Rafael Lombardi.”  
  
Derek nods in his direction once, ignoring his hand and  Stiles exasperated expression as he takes his seat.  
  
Stiles and Rafael begin to speak, mostly exchanging pleasantries as Derek takes it all in. He wonders if Rafael is thinking about his time in Peter’s basement.  The man is tapping his left foot rapidly beneath the table, it shows the nerves he’s clearly worked so hard to hide.  
  
Derek  unzips Dylan’s jacket, smiling slightly when he snuffles in protest. When he takes off Dylan’s ski cap and he instantly regrets it.  
  
“He has my hair!” Rafael is back to being focused on him. “It’s nearly identical.”  
  
“I showed you pictures.” Stiles rolls his eyes, smoothing down  Dylan’s hair. “It used to be much lighter, nearly blond when he was born.”  
  
“I started out that way.” Rafael  chuckles like his string of inane words is actually amusing. “Most Sicilians do, well, my family at least.”  
  
That’s Derek'scue to check out of the conversation. He spends the enxt fifteen minutes listening to Rafael's sparkling lineage of diplomats and doctors.  
  
Halfway through the shrimp, rice croquette and scallop appetizers, Derek feels Dylan start to wake. He shifts restlessly for a moment, hand coming up to pat Derek’s chest before he dozes back off for a few more minutes, then his eyes snap open. Stiles always calls his wake up routine “The Exorcist.”  
  
“Hey.” Derek says, and Dylan scowls.  
  
“Daddy where’d we go?” Dylan doesn’t sound pleased with the change of venue. “I want home.”  
  
“We went out to eat!” Stiles interjects, voice that false cheer that grates on Derek’s ears. “You’re just in time for spaghetti.”  
  
Sour faced, Dylan turns his face into Derek‘s chest.  
  
“Should I…” Rafael clears his throat. “Could you…?”  
  
Before Derek can protest, Stiles is lifting Dylan out of his lap and unto his own so he‘s seated cross from Rafael. “Dyl, I want you to meet a friend of Poppy’s, his name is Rafael, can you say hi?”  
  
“Hello.” Dylan dutifully says shyly. He lays back against Stiles’ chest, peeking up at Rafael.  
  
“Hello, Dylan.” The light makes Rafael’s eyes look shiny. “I’ve waited a very, very long time to see you.”  
  
Most likely unsure of how to respond, Dylan asks, “Do you like Caillou?”  
  
“Uh,”  Rafael looks to Stiles who nods his head ‘yes’ vigorously over the boy’s head. “ I love Caillou.”  
  
And that’s all it takes, Dylan’s face light up into a radiant smile. “Me too.” He shifts forward to grab Stiles phone, “But I don’t like Rosie.”  
  
“Me neither.” Rafael grins, leans in like he has a secret. “Do you know they have Pasta alla Norma here? The best in the state.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Just pasta,“ Another smile. “You like pasta right?”  
  
Dylan nods enthusiastically. “Yes!”  He drops the cell phone and  reaches for Derek hand. “Daddy makes the best, he does it special just for me, with a smiley face in tomatos.”  
  
“So you like pasta.” Rafael doesn’t spare Derek a glance. “Like a true Sicilian boy would.”  
  
“What’s sissy-lin?”  
  
“That, Dylan, is what you are.”  
  
Derek’s chest feels tight as he watches the interaction.  
  
It’s nothing, he knows that,  but it still stings when Stiles doesn’t say anything.  
  
***Stiles***  
  
It’s been a little over a month and  a handful of visits and Stiles thinks it’s going pretty well.    
  
Well, as well as it can go, he doesn’t think any one’s going to get shot at least. Derek isn’t as tense as he was before and Rafael isn’t pushing for more than Stiles is ready to give. He always meets on Stiles’ terms and time. They meet up at Chuck E. Cheese mostly, and Dylan’s so busy playing and exploring that he opens up to Rafael quickly.  His son is still a little shy though, and when he wants something he always asks Derek or Stiles’.  
  
“Is it done, Daddy?” Dylan’s standing in front of the oven still wearing his printed pajamas even though it‘s near five o‘clock. Derek has left the oven light on so he can watch the entire process. “I want the big one.”  
  
“I heard you call dibs the first three times.” Derek responds dryly. He’s seated at the kitchen table, books spread around him. “I’m not going to steal it.”  
  
“Just checking.”  
  
Stiles doesn’t move for a few moments, just watches his family. He loves coming home to this. Seeing Derek studying to complete his high school equivalency may not seem like much to others, but it means the world to him. It means that Derek is through with the mob lifestyle and is making a firm commitment to building a future with them. Stiles has no doubt that Derek can achieve anything he sets his mind to, after all he made Stiles trust again, love again, a feat that rivaled  the impossible after Rafael fucked him over.  
  
“What do ya wanna eat tonight, runt?” Derek shuts the largest book and gets to his feet. “Poppy’s going to be home soon so we should start dinner.”  
  
“Cook--”  
  
“Don’t say cookies.”  
  
“Cookies?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then spaghetti?”  
  
Derek opens the cupboard above the sink, “How about baked chicken over rice?”  
  
“Yeah!” Dylan hops behind him, Robin on his heels. “I like that.”  
  
“Me too.” Stiles speaks up, making both of his boys jump. Dylan giggles and runs over for a hug. “Chicken and rice is my favorite.”  
  
“Then you prep while I take care of the cookies.”  
  
“Alright.” Stiles snags Derek by the belt loop when he passes, tugs him down for a kiss.  “I missed you.”  
  
“You were gone for a couple of hours.”  
  
Stiles shrugs, “Just wanted you to know I did.”  
  
***Stiles***  
  
It never made any  sense to Stiles. Whoever planned the supermarket lay out had some explaining to do. Why are the pregnancy tests located right next to the condoms? And on top of that, the entire ‘family planning’ display is smack dab center offering no privacy for hopeful individuals like himself who kind of missed his lubed, ultra ribbed condoms and really hoped he was pregnant.  
  
Stiles runs his finger along the EPT, he’s not really sure how this is done, which test is the best. Should he buy more than one?  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Startled, Stiles jumps, knocking over about fifty pregnancy tests n the process and Holy shit this could not get any worse.  
  
“What are you doing here?” And that’s Rafael’s voice. “Pregnancy tests?!” His voice is a shout and several people look over, and Stiles so does not need people gossiping about them right now. “ Are you--”  
  
“I’m not.” Stiles automatically denies, “Or wait, I may be. I don’t know. Derek and I have been trying for about two months, and I know I should wait but I totally need to know now, and yesterday I was dizzy so I just thought. You know.”  
  
And yes Stiles is spilling his guts in the grocery store, in front of a display of condoms, but telling someone  about his suspicion is making him excited.  Not wanting to raise Derek’s hopes only to crush them, Stiles hadn’t told him.  
  
“You want to have a baby with Derek?” Rafael looks horrified, takes a half step back. “What about Dylan?”  
  
Stiles stiffens, “What about him? He gets a little brother or sister.”  
  
“But…” It’s Rafael’s turn to go about red. “You can’t…he’s, this ruins everything!”  
  
“Derek is my husband.” Stiles had thought they’d gotten past this at least. “There’s nothing between the two of us to ruin. You wanted to be in Dylan‘s life and I allowed it, that’s it. Newsflash: we’re not going to ride off into the sunset or anything.”  
  
“He’s a mobster, a hit man, a criminal!”  
  
“Ex-mobster,  ex-hitman, ex-criminal! And your record isn‘t so spotless either, cokehead.” Stiles snatches the first three tests he sees from the floor. “Derek‘s changed.”  
  
“Are you sure of that?” Rafael grabs him by the wrist.  
  
“Let go!”  
  
“There’s something I need to tell you, I can prove to you he hasn‘t changed..”  
  
  
***Derek***  
  
  
_“Derek Hale I’m going to kill you!”_  
  
Dropping the 42 caliber quickly, Derek spins around to face his husband.  
  
His angry husband,  his furious husband if the red ears are any indication. Stiles never goes to Peter’s, says it’s unholy ground, but here he is stomping right in when Derek was just innocently looking at Peter’s newest cargo.  
  
“I’m just looking at the guns, not buying--”  
  
“You’re dead! I‘m going to…” Stiles halts when the silent five step forward, Michael blocking his way. “Uh.. Excuse me?”  
  
Neither of them move. They don’t have much interaction with Stiles and every threat, even coming from him, is taken seriously.  
  
Derek raises a hand and they fall back.  
  
“Hi Stiles!” Scott waves from behind Derek, ignoring the tension in the room. “Who let you in?”  
  
“Peter.” Stiles says through clenched teeth, and Derek is legitimately starting to worry. Stiles has never been this angry with him, and only one thing would bring him to this point.  
  
_That fucking rat._  
  
“So he told you.”  
  
“You kidnapped him!”  
  
“Technically, I--”  
  
“DEREK!”  
  
“We agreed to me meeting him before he saw Dylan, that’s what I did , in a roundabout kind of way.”  
  
“I can’t believe you.”  
  
“I didn’t even do anything to him.”  
  
“You tied  him up, in chains, and shoved him in the basement without food or water for two days! Are you out of your mind? This isn’t a movie, Derek, this is our life you‘re fucking with! Did you even think about the consequences? What if he pushes back? How‘s that going to look in court, in a police station?”  
  
The system doesn’t scare Derek, he‘s been in it nearly his entire life. “Rafael goes to the police and he’s dead.”  
  
“Oh my God!” Stiles flails, movements erratic like a chicken with it’s head cut off.  “I’m going to act like I didn’t hear that. You can’t go around saying you‘re going to kill people. That’s murder, Derek, a capital fucking offense!”  
  
“It’s premeditated actually.” Scott the ever helpful bastard pipes up. “We could probably plea down to manslaughter though.”  
  
Stiles’ face is that alarming shade of red again. “Am I the only sane person in this room?”  
  
“So all of a sudden I’m a terrible person?” Derek fires back, “I was good enough until St. Rafael climbed out of the gutter to grace our life.”  
  
“Don‘t try and  make this into another issue, you lied to me!”  
  
“Look Stiles, this is the way I deal with things.” Derek motions to the other men in the room, end son Peter who is standing in the doorway. “The way we deal with things. You knew that when you married me.”  
  
“You told me you were done with that, and I believed you.”  
  
For several seconds they just stare at one another, neither backing down.  
  
Scott walks forward slowly,  “Guys.”  
  
“I can‘t believe you did that to him, that you could do that to someone and just go eat dinner!”  
  
“You said you could handle my life.”  
  
“And that’s not supposed to be your life anymore!”  
  
“Guys!” Scott repeats.  
  
“You’re a liar,” Stiles shouts back.” You went behind my back and--”  
  
“I’m in labor!” Scott screams over the chaos.  
  
Leave it to Scott to divert to his usual manipulation techniques. Derek really appreciates the attempt at a diversion but he has to face this some day, might as well be today.  
  
“Scott, it’s fine.” Derek says. “You don’t have to do this.”  
  
“Now Scott is fighting your battles?” Stiles snaps. “You’re not getting out of --”  
  
“Both of you shut up!” And Scott doesn’t yell, not really, so this high pitched shriek of pure rage makes everybody freeze. “Do I have your attention now? Good. I’m in labor, so shut the fuck up and get me to the hospital!”  
  
Nobody moves for several long seconds, and then everyone moves all at once. Peter rushes forward only to run into Isaac coming up the stairs, then Liam and finally the wall as he tries to get to Scott.  
  
It’s more than a little funny and Derek looks at Stiles and catches his mouth twitching in suppressed laughter.  
  
***Stiles***  
   
“I brought you coffee.” Stiles extends one of the two Styrofoam cups.  Derek’s been in since yesterday night. The moment Lydia came in to work this morning, Stiles picked Dylan up from the sitter and shoved Dylan off on her.  
  
“Thanks.” Derek takes the coffee.  
  
It’s kind of awkward as they sit there. Scott had gone into labor during their biggest fight yet. Neither know how to behave around the other, and Stiles’ isn’t enraged, not anymore but he is still annoyed.  
  
“How long does it take to push out one kid? Does the baby have a Peter’s head?”  
  
“Depends.” Stiles replies. “For me, about twenty eight hours.”  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“It’s not a cakewalk.” It’s hard not to smile at how pale Derek gets. “ You know it’s much harder for males if they don’t get a c-section. The birth canal forms, but it takes days and there’s always complications. Have I never told you all the gritty details? ”  
  
By the time Stiles is done with his walk down memory lane, Derek looks green,  
  
“Let’s hold off on the new baby.”  
  
“Softie.” Stiles laughs, bumps their shoulders. “It may be too late.”  
  
“Are you…?”  
  
“If I am it‘s really early.”  
  
Derek’s eyes fall to the floor. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have done it.”  
  
And wow, it’s not every day that Derek Hale apologizes.  
  
Stiles can‘t resist. “You shouldn’t have _what_?”  
  
“Taken Rafael against his will.”  
  
“Which is the _definition_ of kidnapping.”  
  
“I just. I _hate_ Rafael.”  
  
“Really? You never let on.”    
  
“I hate the guy because of this,” Derek motions around them and Stiles takes in the waiting room, the other anxious faces. “What you described, it sounds like hell. Scott’s in there right now probably wishing for death.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“But Peter’s in there with him, and so is his mother. She flew in on the red eye, paid a fortune for the last minute flight. You had no one, and I hate him for that. I will never trust anyone capable of just walking away from his responsibilities. A lack of loyalty shows the lack of a man, anyone less than a man will fuck you over.”  
  
“You sounded like Peter just now.”  
  
“Say what you will about my uncle but he’s right most of the time.”  
  
“Derek, believe it or not, I don’t have blinders on. I’m cautious with Rafael, we’re meeting on my terms. The last thing I want is for him to go to court and try to assert some kind of rights or visitation. Where would that leave us?”  
  
“I looked it up, custody hearings take place where the child’s domiciled. Peter has every judge within a one hundred and fifty mile radius in his pocket. If that’s what you’re worried about--”  
  
“And, I also want to give him a chance. If he truly is sorry, if he really wants to get to know Dylan; he deserves a chance.”  
  
“I get that.”  
  
“Do you? Or are you going to kidnap him again?”  
  
“I won’t.” Derek looks sheepish, and Stiles is shocked to see an almost ruddy hint of his cheeks. “Derek Hale are you blushing right now?”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Petunia!” Stiles mocks, pouncing on him. “Baby, you’re blushing.”  
  
“Stiles, pull it together.”  
  
That just makes him tickles Derek’s ribs and a lot of people don’t realize just how ticklish Derek is.  
  
“Really, Derek?”  
  
They both freeze at the sound of Peter’s voice.  
  
“If you two are done behaving like school children, my daughter wants to meet her godfather.”  
  
“A girl?” Derek repeats, getting to his feet. “Guess you were wrong.”  
  
“This is the one time I don’t mind.”

"Have you named her?"  
  
"Sabrina." The smile that spreads across Peter’s face is warm and so foreign that Stiles literally gets the chills. "Sabrina Hale, first girl we've had in the family since Laura."

"I can't wait to see her." Derek stands up, and what follows is the most awkward hug of the century.  
  
“Only two people are allowed in at a time.” Peter relays uncomfortably. "So..."  
  
Stiles hides a smile behind his sleeve and refuses to point out the obvious, that Peter stay while Derek and Stiles go. He’s pretty sure Peter would shoot him.  
  
“Go ahead.’ Stiles gives Derek a push forward, “I’ll wait my turn.”  
  
***Rafael***  
  
As soon as Rafael steps outside of Stiles’ flower shop, he sheds his warm smile. He’s spent the past hour all but groveling at Stiles’ feet so he can be forgiven for telling the truth.  It’s mind boggling how Derek has gotten Stiles wrapped around his finger, he doesn’t even know right from wrong anymore.  
  
The only rewarding thing about turning informant is seeing Stiles. It’s like the years between them never happened.  Everything about Stiles is the same, he’s still loud, animated and sarcastic to a fault. His sense of humor is the same, his laugh is the same.  Rafael is glad he didn’t destroy that part of him,  
  
And Dylan. The little boy is warm and funny, playful. He’s like Stiles reborn. Rafael can’t believe he willingly walked away from them before.  
  
The only dark cloud is Derek Hale. He hasn’t tried anything since the abduction but his eyes are always following him, tracking his every movement. It makes Rafael nervous, causes a ripple of fear to go up his spine. But he needs to do this, not only because it will guarantee him a good deal on his pending prosecution but because Derek Hale isn’t a fit parent or husband.  It’s Rafael’s fault Stiles got mixed up with a monster, and he’s going to clean up his mess.  
  
Once he gathers enough evidence against Derek, enough to put him away for good, he can reclaim his family, give Stiles the happily ever after he deserves.  
  
  



End file.
